


Transcendental Heroes

by ToukoTai



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Identity Reveal, No Batman AU, but Tim is still Red Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9384125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToukoTai/pseuds/ToukoTai
Summary: In a world with no Batman or Robin, Red Robin and Spoiler still take out Gotham's trash nightly.And Dick Grayson is their biggest fan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU Bruce never became Batman, due to being crippled during his parents' mugging.
> 
> Tim and Stephanie are aged up to the same age as Dick just to make timelines play nice in my head.
> 
> After Tim's parents are killed in Haiti, he goes on the whole training journey and comes back as Red Robin. Steph joins him as Spoiler because of her dad like half a year later. And Bruce approaches them with a deal to combine their resources for this whole vigilante shindig. He's basically their Oracle, like in Batman Beyond.

_ In the darkest hour of the longest night  
If it was in my power I'd step into the light _

 

Everyone has heard of Red Robin.

You can’t live in Gotham and not have heard of him. Either in whispers or curses. Originally the biggest urban legend but now with the rise of masked vigilantes in other cities,(Green Arrow in particular. Metas in general.) the general opinion was that Red Robin existed. 

Though there were hold out’s.

Dick Grayson, ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne, orphan of the circus and current member of Gotham’s finest, was a true believer.

Even if he wasn’t, having Red Robin drop tackling Two Face right before the deranged man was about to kill Dick in an elaborate death trap ‘screw you’ to the city of Gotham, would make a believer out of anybody.

“Red!” Dick exclaimed happily.

“Officer Grayson.” Red Robin paused just long enough to acknowledge him with a curt nod before punching Two Face out.

“Knew you’d make it in time.” Dick grinned at him, even with the ropes burning against his wrists and the ache of bruised ribs in his torso.

Dick hadn’t been worried in the least because Red Robin would make it in time. 

He was reliable like that.

 

No one could deny that the city had become just a touch, a tad safer at night since Red Robin had taken to it.

Not one hundred percent safe of course, because it  _ was _ Gotham. Not even forty percent really.

Nowadays there were more behind bars then gunning in the streets and that was something.

But the demographic where Red Robin really stood out, was the big names.

Two Face, Penguin, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Clayface.

Before Red Robin, being a cop in Gotham was a little like playing Russian Roulette but with only one chamber empty. 

Cops tended to keep their heads down when the big names hit the streets. Then Red Robin had exploded onto the scene, with him had come Spoiler and they started hitting back.

The tide slowly, but steadily  _ turned _ .

For the better.

Being Gotham PD was still dangerous, was still mired in corruption and mobs and Dick wound up with the short end of the stick more often then not.

But if there was one thing he could count on, it was Red Robin and Spoiler having his back on the job.

 

Dick had a tiny, little bitty, protective streak when it came to the vigilante. The way he figured, he owed the guy a hell of a lot. Not just because of his own life. 

Red Robin was an equal opportunity saver, many of Dick’s friends and colleagues had been saved by him. (And there were some who weren’t. But the saves outweighed the losses and that’s what Dick counted.)

There were even times when Dick’s own family had been rescued by the red and black hero.(Dick refused to see Red Robin as anything  _ but _ a hero.)

So when he saw the front page headline on a monday morning, following a very trying two week period of back to back Arkham escapees, he was  _ agitated _ .

Unfortunately, neither of his brothers seemed to share his sentiment.

“Look, I’m just saying that I want to make sure he’s alright. Okay?” Dick stared down his brothers in the most used living room. Jason slapped a hand against the back of the couch, while Damian sunk further down in his seat. A futile hope to escape his brother’s attention by escaping sightlines. Jason did not have that luxury.

“The guy’s been doing this for how many years? I think he’ll be fine.” Jason argued.

“Six, but who’s counting? Jay. He’s only human. And he’s by himself, against this.” Dick shook the paper with the offending headline in front of Jason’s face.

It wasn’t that Jason didn’t care, because he did. (Red Robin had saved him from the Joker after all.) That was the problem. Jason cared way too much and hid it by pretending not to care at all.

“He faces down the Penguin practically every other night and half the gangs in town are scared of his  _ voice, _ let alone his face, and you think a  _ headline _ is going to bring him down?”

“It’s the small things, Jay.” Dick is aware that he might be whining. But let it never be said that he wouldn’t use every tool at his disposal to get his way. From the slightly louder yet muffled rhythmic sounds, Damian had opted out of the conversation by just turning up his headphones.

“He’s a badass, Dick. He doesn’t  _ need  _ your help.”

“That is entirely beyond the point.” And they’re off. Jason blows steam off best by violence or in a pinch, arguing. And Dick can never just walk away from anything Red Robin. Their evening is pretty much set, except that Damian had left the room unnoticed and gone for back up.

“Boys, enough.” Bruce’s voice is enough to cut through the debate masquerading as a discussion. Stops Jason with his mouth open and Dick with his finger shoved almost up Jason’s nose. “Red Robin is  _ fine _ .” Dick peers suspiciously at him. Bruce had never before voiced an opinion on the vigilante. Had never said anything but neutral phrases and terms, had been  _ extremely _ careful in fact, not to say anything beyond the most basic things, the most public facts. There could only be one reason for that.

“Oh my god.” Dick’s hand swung his accusing finger from Jason’s left nostril to Bruce. Surprised he hadn’t figured it out before that moment. “You know who he is! You know who the Red Robin is!”

“You’ve met him, actually. Several times in fact.” Bruce returned, as calm as Dick was not. Absolute silence and intense staring answer this proclamation. Bruce sighed. “Tomorrow, I will take you to meet him tomorrow. Just Dick for now.” He said, and Jason slumped back against the couch with a huff.

 

Bruce ushers Dick into the Wayne Tech elevator the very next morning, late enough that it was almost noon, jabbing the button for what Dick is pretty sure is the R&D floor.

“One at a time, and in his own environment would be best for introductions I think.” Bruce said by way of explanation last evening. “He’s...jumpy.” Bruce sounded more amused then anything else though.

“No way.” Dick leaned against the back of the elevator with his arms full of take out bags as the enormity of the situation caught up to him. “You’re taking me to meet  _ the _ Red Robin.” A small smile curved on Bruce’s face.

The elevator went to the R&D floor as Dick suspected, what he didn’t suspect was them going to an out of the way elevator at the back of the department and taking  _ that _ one even further down.

“Good afternoon, Mister Wayne.” An energetic, young, blond secretary greeted them as soon as they were off the elevator. It looked like her station and the office area she was in front of were the only things on this floor.

“Good afternoon Ms. Brown. Is he in?”

“Of course, Mister Wayne. Should I let him know you’re here to see him?” Her finger hovered over the intercom button.

“No, Miss Brown, that won’t be necessary. I’m only here to introduce my son. I think it’s high time they got acquainted.” Her smile didn’t falter though it did gain a little in the way of teeth. Dick didn’t know what was at play here but clearly the two were sharing some sort of inside joke.

“Well, I’ll be here. Dick was it?” She directed that sharp smile at him. The hand held out to him seemed to be part welcoming and part deliberate goading. Dick took it anyway and shook her hand firmly with his best, most charming, smile.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Brown.” She snickered, glancing slyly over at Bruce.

“Ya raised a charmer here, Mister Wayne.” Bruce snorted, as Dick dropped her hand in surprise at the complete turn in attitude. From well mannered, well trained receptionist, to thick accented Gotham street kid in zero seconds. “Bring enough to share with the class?” She asked, nodding pointedly to the takeout bag in Dick’s hand. A vicious light curling in her eyes  when she caught the logo on the bags.

“The conference room in ten, Stephanie.” Bruce said, holding the glass door behind her station open for Dick to walk through. She flapped a hand at them, turning back to her computer, that Dick could now see had a very intense round of solitaire open on it.

All the offices they walked past were empty. Not in the occupant being out at the moment but as in no furniture, no computer, no desk, empty.

“Is there anybody down here?” Dick asked, hearing his voice bounce around the walls, the empty never filled offices and labs.

“Just two, including Ms. Brown.” They walked by a pair of heavy set double doors on one side and an empty conference room with glass walls on the other.

“Observation room for new tech trials.” Bruce said at Dick’s curious look to the double doors. Presumably that meant it overlooked a room to  _ have _ the trials in. Which meant there had to be  _ something _ developed here despite the general lack of people and the feel of complete and total isolation.

This was the weirdest floor of R&D he’d seen yet.

 

Dick wasn’t sure what he was expecting when finally meeting Red Robin’s secret identity. But a tousle headed young man his own age, napping with a cheek pressed against his keyboard and drool gathering next to his mouse wasn’t exactly high on the list.

The man’s face had landed on the keypad part of the keyboard. Filling the open document on the screen with an endless series of the number four.

Dick took a step forward, only to stare in confusion at Bruce’s hand clutching his arm, bringing him up short. Bruce raised his eyebrows meaningfully, and hefted his cane up.

_ Let sleeping vigilantes lie _

Dick nodded in understanding, quickly stepping back to Bruce’s side as the older man reached out with the cane, and slammed the butt of it into the young man’s chair.

The reaction was instant.

Without a sound the young man was wide awake, had whirled around and halfway hefted the chair to throw.

“Oh,” Tired blue eyes blinked. “It’s just you.” The chair was unceremoniously dropped back onto the ground. Dick couldn’t stop staring. 

_ Oh _ , he thought, a little hysterically,  _ it’s just you _ . 

The person standing in front of them, the one that Bruce was alleging was Red Robin, had been at the charity gala just last week. Had danced a turn with Babs, had dodged an elbow to the ribs from Jason, had laughed as though there was nothing even remotely wrong. He’d been to the manor only the other day, to drop files off with Bruce, had ruffled Damian’s hair, trading light teasing barbs with the younger boy on his way to Bruce’s study.

Had sent Dick pictures from his latest ski trip to the alps.

Had been in the audience the night Dick’s parents had died, taken a picture with him right before the show started.

Five years later, his own parents had died in a tragic accident. He’d been sent off to boarding school. Dick hadn’t seen him until six years ago. When he returned to Gotham following his graduation.

And half a year later Red Robin appeared for the first time.

Little Timothy Jackson Drake had grown up.

Into Red Robin.

 

(Dick’s concern over the psychological impact of Vicki Vale’s headliner vanished. Timothy Drake had been dealing with reporters and gossip rags since he was in diapers.)

 

“I hope we didn’t disturb you.” Dick managed to rip his eyes off the yawning, bruised face to shoot Bruce an incredulous look. Bruce ignored him, continuing on in the same calm, even tone. “We brought lunch.” Tim’s head snapped up like a dog’s at the mention of food.

“I forgive you for what you are about to do.” He said, hands making grabbing motions in the air. Bruce passed over the bag, politely not saying anything as the bag was torn into without a word.

“Dick, may I introduce you, once more, to Timothy Drake.” Tim nodded vaguely, not a single ounce of attention on Dick. “Timothy, Dick has taken something of an  _ interest  _ in your welfare.” At that, Tim paused in the act of going through the bag to squint suspiciously at Dick.

“Are we doing this  _ now _ ?” He asked Bruce, though his eyes didn’t leave Dick’s.

“No time like the present.” Bruce said mildly. 

“Right.” Tim puts the takeout bag down on the counter, brushes his hands off briskly on his pants, and offers one to Dick. “Hello, Officer Grayson. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

It wasn’t Tim’s voice that Dick heard, it was Red Robin’s. A deeper, rougher voice then Tim’s current sleepy drawl. Dick could only goggle at him and Tim’s mouth stretched into a smirk in response.

 

Stephanie joined them in the empty conference room. Empty but for the huge table and plush leather chairs. The burgers, fries and drinks spread out on the table like the highest calorie junk feast. Dick had thought he knew what seeing a half starved animal eating food was like. Growing up in the circus helping feed the animals and then again watching Jason go through puberty, going through it himself. Well, he thought he knew what it was like seeing someone go to town.

Nothing really prepared him for seeing Tim and Stephanie demolish several burgers each, with fries, soda and water on top.

It’s single minded the way they went at it.

Stephanie chews with her mouth open and spreads her limbs out creating a cave around her share. Like a dragon guarding its treasure. Dick would bet money she was raised a Gotham street kid, and not from the nice side of the streets. Jason had habits similar when he’d first come to the manor. Tim on the other hand, chewed with his mouth closed, and had all the table manners of a well bred and raised Gotham socialite's son.

Because that’s what he was.

(Stephanie let him steal a few of her fries and he passed her his onions.)

 

Now that Dick had the time to really study Tim, he wasn’t entirely sure he liked what he saw. He hid it well, Dick had to admit. Maybe if he knew Tim better(and he would!) he’d be able to spot more tells, but as it is.

Tim looked like he’d been hit by a train and then dragged behind the same train for twenty miles. There was slouch to his posture, a slump to his shoulders. His hair wasn’t so much messy by fashion design as messy by just rolling out bed and coming to work. A beautiful bruise turning day old green and brown on his left cheekbone, a white butterfly bandage over his right eyebrow, the hint of more bandages under his shirtsleeve. The knuckles of his right hand were swollen and red. Both of Tim’s eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot. Though his gaze was sharp and clear.

Staying up late, not sleeping enough, getting into fights.

_ Getting beat to hell and back. Beating others to hell and back. _

As a child, from what Dick remembered of him, Tim had always been smaller and skinnier then his peers. He looked about two years younger then he was compared to Dick, certainly compared to Jason. Who had hit his growth spurt and turned into a tank of a man overnight, it seemed. Tim on the other hand had been small for his age. Even though Tim and Dick were born only a few months apart and he had a couple  _ years  _ on Jason, back in the day during charity events and galas people had acted as though Tim was the younger of three.

Now, fully grown, Tim was taller for one, still a little on the short side, able to meet Dick’s eyes but wasn’t taller then him. Slim but not skinny, not unhealthy. Muscular, trim, an athlete's body, Dick was sure, though the casual business wear Tim had on hid the exact size and condition of his body. The hand Dick had shaken, and why hadn’t he noticed it before, had the right callouses and strength for hand to hand combat, or say swinging from a grappling hook over the city skyline.

It made a certain sort of sense. You couldn’t do what Red Robin did if you didn’t take proper care of yourself. 

You also took a certain amount of punishment.

People like the Joker didn’t just stand around waiting to be hit. Didn’t not try to hit you back. And Tim had taken his fair share of punishment this past week. It’s obvious in the way that Tim had an arm casually wrapped around his waist, bracing himself up a little, in the way he took short shallow breaths, like taking a deep even breath would hurt, in the way he had favored his right ankle on the walk to the conference room. Chatting amiably with Bruce the entire time, while Dick just. 

Watched. 

Catalogued things. Tried to make sense of what was right in front of his face.

But he’s not the only one taking stock.

Tim studies him from half lidded eyes, while Stephanie slurps loudly at her soda. Bright blue eyes guilelessly fixed on him. 

Dick is pleased to note that Tim looks a little better then when Dick had first seen him, startled from sleep and about to throw a chair at them. There was so much that he wanted to ask, wanted to know. His curiosity had been burning since the first time Red Robin had saved him. But looking at Tim now. How tired, run down, worn out he was. Dick reconsidered. 

Red Robin had been pulling back to back action packed patrols following the mass breakout from Arkham.

This wasn’t the time for an interrogation though, even a good natured one. Now that he knew who Red Robin was, there would be plenty of time for those questions later. It wasn’t like Dick didn’t know where Tim lived,(right next door) or worked(apparently the super secret level of R&D).

“Just one question.” Tim raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for Dick to continue. “Have you flown with Superman?” Tim snorted, and then laughed. Clearly this was not what he had been expecting.

“Who hasn’t?” He replied, not even trying to hide the good natured bite of sarcasm.

(and that was what put Dick completely at ease, because  _ that  _ was pure Timothy Drake.)

 

In the elevator on the way back up, the smug smile receptionist Stephanie sent them out with jangled in his brain until Dick made the sudden startling connection.

“Stephanie is Spoiler?!” Bruce merely laughed at him.

“The one and only, or so I’m told.”

**Author's Note:**

> title and lyrics from Transcendental Blues by Steve Earle


End file.
